


Resonance and Reassurance

by lifeaftermeteor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Galaxy Garrison, M/M, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Orphan Shiro (Voltron), Pre-Canon, Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 08:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18406934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: An off-handed remark breeds sudden tension between Adam and Takashi over one particularly troublesome cadet. The insights it yields brings a moment of introspection and reassurance.





	Resonance and Reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> Another one for my ["Garrison Days" collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/vld_garrison_days). This time focusing a bit on Adam and Shiro’s relationship and some insight into why Shiro cares so much about Keith.

“Don’t touch those. They’re not for you.” 

Adam froze, his hand hovering over the brightly colored box that sat on the counter and turned to stare horrified at his boyfriend.  Takashi looked over his shoulder at him and laughed before turning back to the sink.  He finished rinsing off the dish in his hands before he explained.  “It’s Keith’s birthday tomorrow.  They’re for him.” 

Adam gave one final, longing glance at the box and then turned to face his partner.  “You mean to tell me you spent some of your _very limited_ time off-base to go to the _only_ decent bakery in the city where you bought half a dozen cupcakes and you _didn’t_ bring any home for _us?_  Takashi, I’m disappointed in you.  I think I might even go so far to say I’m offended.” 

Takashi laughed again, a light breathy sound.  Pulling the plug to the sink drain, he let the water run out as he rinsed off the last dish and set it aside on the drying rack.  He then grabbed a nearby towel and turned to lean back against the counter as he dried his hands.  

“What on Earth is he going to do with six cupcakes?” Adam pressed.   

“Eat them, hopefully. Share them if not.” 

Adam huffed a jaded laugh before he could stop himself.  The idea of Keith Kogane celebrating his birthday with fellow cadets was inconceivable, in a sad sort of way.  The kid was good, very good, as far as natural talent was concerned.  But he was also a terror, for teaching staff and cadets alike.  If ever there was a human manifestation of the phrase ‘bad apple,’ Keith Kogane was it. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Turning his attention back to the conversation at hand, Adam found Takashi’s eyes on him, guarded and observant.  “Keith isn’t winning any congeniality awards with the Garrison.” 

“He’s a good kid.” 

“When?  When he’s with you?  He’s got reason to be ‘good’ when he’s with you.” 

Takashi shook his head.  “He’s not the conniving sort.  If anything, he’s too blunt.” 

“‘Too blunt’ hardly captures it,” Adam mused.  “He has no respect for authority, keeps breaking formation, and has a penchant for starting fights with his classmates.  Keith is a hothead and will be dangerous in a cockpit.  The class has every reason to have reservations about serving beside him.” 

“This has nothing to do with his skills and you know it.  James Griffin has all but made it his _mission_ to turn the class against him and clearly has no qualms doing so,” Takashi argued. “This has ‘personal vendetta’ written all over it.” 

Adam grit his teeth.  “Teenagers are stupid and cruel. They’re filled to the brim with hormone imbalances and territoriality and bullshit and—why is this event a point of discussion?” Adam asked, suddenly realizing where this conversation was heading. “Why are we arguing about this?”  He watched Takashi turn away, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. 

And that’s when it finally hit him.  “No,” Adam said in no uncertain terms, “no, we are _not_ arguing about Keith Kogane.”  His partner didn’t say anything and in truth, he didn’t have to: it was written all over his face.  Adam sighed.  “Takashi, you _cannot_ save every broken thing—” 

“I don’t _need_ to save ‘every’ one,” Takashi countered, his voice bitter and eyes sharp as he turned back to Adam.  “Just one. _This_ one.” 

At the admission, Takashi’s eyes slipped away once more and focused inward, avoiding Adam’s questioning gaze.  The towel in his hands twisted in his fingers, his knuckles going white.  Some chord had been struck, but Adam couldn’t hear it.  He rarely could when Takashi got like this.  It was as if he was listening to ghosts, withdrawing as if the present hurt too much. 

“Don’t,” Adam whispered as he stepped close.  “Don’t shut me out.  Please.  Talk to me.”  In the silence that followed, he pressed closer and dropped his hands on the edge of the counter, trapping Takashi between them.  The silence stretched onward, and Adam worried his partner would be content to wall him off entirely. 

Eventually though, his patience paid off.  “He’s hurting,” Takashi murmured.  “He’s alone. And he’s angry.” He paused for a time before finally concluding, “Like me.” 

Before Adam could argue the point, Takashi finally looked up and Adam found those gray eyes impossibly deep, but sad. He had long since learned that they usually were, despite Takashi’s efforts to hide it. Even so, they always managed to take his breath away.   

After another moment of shared silence, Takashi continued, “I know that he could do _great_ things. He’d make everyone so proud. He just needs that chance.” 

“And what about all the chances he’s gotten to this point?” Adam challenged, though the bite was already gone.   

Again, Takashi’s gaze turned inward. “People survive trauma differently, Adam. Keith and I are more alike than the Garrison would like to believe.” 

“You are a Goddamn ray of sunshine compared to Keith Kogane,” Adam said. 

“Which only means I hide it better,” Takashi countered. His mouth had that easy, honey-coated smile but it belied the steel underneath.  His eyes were cold. 

“You never started any fights—” 

“No, but I _finished_ plenty of them.” 

There was truth to that, Adam reflected, thinking back on their cadet years. Across their class, it was universally understood that if it ever came to blows, you wanted Takashi Shirogane swinging for _your_ side.  As a teen, he had had more fight in him than his demeanor would have suggested.  Even now, it wasn't as if it had subsided; it had just been refined, forged into the man before him now.  Adam sighed.  “More to the point, you were never a discipline case—” 

“Because I surrounded myself with others who carried the mantle.” 

This was also true.  Takashi early on had been all but attached at the hip to Matt Holt who—Adam was convinced—could have gotten away with murder.  Holt's small band of miscreants had caused more mayhem in their short three years as cadets than any subsequent class or classes combined.  Takashi had served on more than one occasion as the team's diversion, a role he had happily played to leadership's constant chagrin. 

But Takashi had also been humble, and Adam pulled that thread.  “You were never a show-off, never a hotshot,” he said, then added, “at least not intentionally.” 

“No,” Takashi conceded, “but I was reckless.  Still am, as you like to remind me.  That garners its own kind of attention.” 

A heavy silence stretched between them and Adam watched those gray eyes soften at last before Takashi's gaze dropped to the floor.  “The only reason the kid you met years ago wasn't _exactly_ like Keith Kogane is because we dealt with our pain differently. 

“When I came here...when Child Services signed me over and the Garrison took me in...I was _so scared_ of being alone that I _clung_ to everyone, anyone who would let me.  So when I got to the point where I wanted _nothing more_ than to be left alone so I could rage against the universe—and I did get there, that much I can promise you—and I tried to push everyone away...no one would let me. 

“We are _letting_ Keith push us away.  The entire Garrison.  We're _letting_ him.  We've written him off as a lost cause when his is no different than mine was.”  Takashi snorted derisively then and said, “Mine was arguably worse: I actually have a damn expiration date!  He doesn't.  And yet somehow, _he_ is the one we've chosen to abandon when he needs our support the most. 

“That's not who we are.  I know, because when I lost _everything_ , the Garrison was there.  When I found out I was sick, the Garrison was there.  Through all of the...fear, and grief, and anger at it all...the Garrison was there. 

“That's all I want for him,” Takashi said at last, finally raising his eyes to meet Adam's once more.  “I will _never_ give up on him because _no one_ ever gave up on me.  But it _can't_ just be me.  It _has_ to be more people.” 

Adam watched his partner closely for a breathless moment. There was some unfamiliar, deep resonance in the man before him, as if he was seeing him in a new light altogether. A wavelength all too similar to the troubled youth he was mentoring. 

At last, Adam offered a resigned smile and said, “One of these days I’m going to learn how to say ‘no’ to you. Today is not that day. Tomorrow’s not looking great either.” Takashi exhaled, the sound colored with hesitant, relieved laughter. 

Adam pulled the dish towel from his hands and set it on the counter, closing the remaining distance between them.  He then wrapped his arms around Takashi’s waist while the other man draped his own over his shoulders.  He leaned forward and kissed him, soft and sweet and reassuring.  When he pulled back, Adam said, “I’ll speak to James. And I’ll talk to the other mentors. No guarantees, but we’ll see what we can do.” 

Takashi finally gave him a small smile and whispered, the words barely audible, “Thank you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea of Shiro also being an orphan the Garrison took in is something that took root when I was writing "Stolen Time" and hasn't let me go. This collection will likely feature additional pieces that explore this space further.


End file.
